


True North

by asuralucier



Category: John Wick (Movies)
Genre: Cozy, Established Relationship, Gaze Porn, M/M, Pre-Canon, Shipoween 2019 Treat, Snark and silliness, Theme: Seasonal, bathrobes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-08
Updated: 2019-11-08
Packaged: 2020-10-25 06:23:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,115
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20719553
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/asuralucier/pseuds/asuralucier
Summary: ”Don’t be a cocksucker.” Marcus glowered, pushing damp rain-soaked hair out of his eyes. “Unlike some lazy assholes I know, I actually go to work in all weather conditions.”John swallowed a laugh the best he could and went to fetch the other man a towel. “Didn’t you bring an umbrella?”This is basically a brief ode to Marcus’s extremely comfortable looking bathrobe with some accidental feels and fall fixings.





	True North

**Author's Note:**

  * For [livenudebigfoot](https://archiveofourown.org/users/livenudebigfoot/gifts).

“What did you do, walk through a car wash?” John opened the door when the knock sounded. At first he was thinking of saying something else, but let it go in the end. The fact that Marcus turned up to his hotel room looking like he was carrying the weight of the Amazon basin with him meant that maybe the guy was jonesing for a break the way that most other people were hankering for their next adrenaline rush. 

Predictably, the other man wasn’t looking too thrilled. 

”Don’t be a cocksucker.” Marcus glowered, pushing damp hair out of his eyes. “Unlike some lazy assholes I know, I actually go to work in all weather conditions.” 

John swallowed a laugh the best he could and went to fetch the other man a towel. “Didn’t you bring an umbrella?”

“Left it,” Marcus said with a roundabout shrug as he took off his coat. Rainwater and general New York grime dripped from its edges and he stared distastefully at the mess left behind. By virtue of them being on Continental grounds, it was not his problem. Maybe that was why he was here. “It keeps jamming and maybe I don’t like surprises.”

“Or maybe you can invest in a normal umbrella that doesn’t shoot 9mms,” John suggested. “Go for something, I don’t know. More portable.” 

“I’ll look into some calligraphy pens,” Marcus agreed. He stuck his face into the soft terry cloth and sighed. 

“Calligraphy pens,” John gave him a sideways glance. “Sometimes I don’t know how your brain works.” 

Outside, was rain, rain and the odd almost earthy smell of fall that had been tracked in by the way of Marcus’s wet clothes. It looked as if the rain had since slowed down some, but John moved to close the curtains anyway. Marcus looked like he’d already gotten the worst of it. 

“Pencils are taken,” Marcus said, gesturing with the towel still in hand. “Wouldn’t want to step on any toes, if you get me.” 

John was wearing socks with the heels more or less worn in but fabric still covered his toes. He flexed them. “Sure you’ve stepped on worse.” 

Marcus did that thing, that slow crawl with his eyes up from all of John’s vulnerable joints, his ankles, up to his hips to his ribs, no doubt calculating the velocity with which a bullet would have to travel past bone to lodge fatally in his lungs. By the time said crawl reached John’s eyes, he felt as if he’d been stripped of his skin and was just standing there praying for mercy and a quick death. He couldn’t even move.

(It was not John’s first time on the receiving end of that sort of thing, a thing that he’d jokingly called Marcus’s ‘stripper gaze.’ Marcus hadn’t been too hot on the name, but later, John made it up to him. Several times.) 

“I have,” Marcus nodded. “But I wouldn’t. I’m going to use your bath.” 

“How was the job?” John said. He was perched on the edge of the tub. He didn’t do that until Marcus was completely submerged in the water up to his chest. The man didn't said it outright, but he never liked it when John looked at him in turn for too long. So John tried not to. 

“You mean, besides the random torrential downpour that hit?” Marcus didn’t look at him. “Fine. I guess.” 

“Hang on,” John told him. He got up and went to make a call to Room Service. Several minutes later, he returned with two wineglasses, each filled halfway with an amber-gold liquid and a slice of apple with its yellow skin still attached floating on top. 

John tapped one of the glasses against Marcus’s shoulder and the man stirred. 

“Wasn’t asleep.” 

“I didn’t say you were,” John said. 

Marcus stared distrustfully at the proffered glass for a moment longer before shifting into more of a sitting position. “What’s in here?” 

“Booze, and an apple slice.” 

Marcus took the glass, and he did a version of the stripper gaze, where he slowly took in the taste of the alcohol in his mouth before he swallowed. John watched the mild swelling motion of his throat, but only for a second. Then Marcus seemed to think about it and reached to wipe his fingers on the edge of John’s t-shirt before fishing out the apple slice. 

“Maybe I’m old,” Marcus said, chewing. “I was thinking that today, in the rain.” 

Now John looked at him, but he was careful to hide that the best he could over the top of his own drink. Privately, he’d always thought that Marcus looked old since he’d met him but over time, the man was just the same. Weathered, maybe, by thinking too much, but the same. 

“You know,” John said. “They say the first sign of old age is the inability to deal with change. Fall does that, the weather has to kind of make up its mind before it turns cold.” 

“Before it decides to fuck off, you mean.” 

“Yeah, kind of,” John tipped back his own glass and felt a familiar warmth pulling south in his belly, and then winding even farther down. It was probably half from the alcohol and half from Marcus. 

“I’ve always disliked change,” Marcus said, but not to John. 

“Then you’re not old,” said John. “You’re just you.” 

Marcus’s expression went three different places before it settled. Then he said, “Shit. I don’t have anything to wear.” 

“I didn’t know they tailored bathrobes,” Marcus said, actually sounding a bit impressed. He put his fingers into the soft cotton material and John watched as his knuckles moved. Marcus very rarely looked impressed about anything and preferred being fucked off; John let himself enjoy the moment. 

“They did for me.” They probably didn’t generally but John had asked really nicely. He’d wanted it to be right. 

“How long have you had this around, anyway? It’s not like it’ll fit you.” Marcus shrugged it on after a moment longer of looking at it. After he tied the front, John stepped up to him and adjusted the knot even though it was not crooked. Marcus was ever precise; nothing was off-kilter if he had anything to do with it, something else John knew about him and liked. 

“Figured you’d turn up and need it eventually,” John said, keeping his fingers wound up in the tie. 

Marcus laughed airlessly, “Am I that predictable?” 

John leaned in and pressed his nose against the crook of Marcus’s neck, where he could take in the smell of the man’s fresh shampoo. “I don’t mind, really. It lets me know where I am, too.”

**Author's Note:**

> (Title refers to the ‘north’ that always points to the North Pole, as opposed to magnetic north on a compass which is sometimes wonky. True north is also known as geodetic north.)


End file.
